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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521211">Soulmates - Short Stories Challenge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed'>Sed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warcraft (2016), World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dreams, Emotions, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, Humor, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mirror Sex, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Soulmates, Undeath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:00:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A week's worth of short stories for February 2020, all based on common soulmate tropes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Garrosh Hellscream/Varian Wrynn, Gidwin Goldbraids/Tarenar Sunstrike, Khadgar/Anduin Lothar, Khadgar/Crispy Bolvar, Koltira Deathweaver/Thassarian, Lorna Crowley/Tess Greymane, Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Day 1: Varrosh - Feeling when your soulmate is in danger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been wanting to do a month long short fic challenge since I saw the Kinktober posts and totally missed out on doing that, so here we are! All the ship/trope combinations are selected at random, so even I don't know what I'm getting each day. Ratings for each story will be different, so the fic is marked explicit just in case.</p><p>Also I'm just going to title each chapter with the ship's most common name. When there is no common name, or I don't know it, I'm going to just make something up and it may or may not be ridiculous. I make no apologies.</p><p>Please note, tags will be added as each short story is written!</p><p>
  <b>Update: As you may have noticed, I wasn't able to keep up with this project and finish in February. Things got kind of crazy for me, and then we all know how March went. I've decided to cut this at 7 stories, and maybe do another week-long run of them at another time.</b>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Garrosh had noticed,  it was a late afternoon in Garadar. He was still young—not so young that he’d never made a kill of his own, but young enough to find the strange sensation baffling. It was so much like fear that at first he’d mistaken it for instinct, or a warning from the ancestors that something grave was in store. But panic had swiftly given way to a deep foreboding, an understanding of some terrible danger looming on the horizon, and even he knew there were few among his people with such a gift. If Garrosh had been a seer, the elements would have spoken to him already. They had not.</p><p>That strange incident had resulted in a long talk with his elders, from which he had only emerged twice as confused and frustrated that he didn’t understand. He did not <em>like</em> things that were needlessly complicated, as this matter of spirits and souls and fate seemed to be. They told him he was too young to truly comprehend the importance of it, that one day he would see. He decided then that he didn’t care. Whatever it was, it did not concern him, and he vowed to never, ever change his mind on the matter.</p><p>The second time he was approaching his name day. He had just finished skinning a talbuk stag, and was making his way back to the village when that same feeling of inexplicable panic filled him for no reason at all. That night Greatmother Geyah had looked on him with pity, and it made him feel ashamed. Whatever the strange feeling was, whatever its cause, it was clear to him that his lack of understanding was his own failure. His resentment deepened.</p><p>It happened many more times over the years, and eventually Garrosh stopped keeping count. When he came of age he was told the deeper meaning of this strange tug at his chest, the fear and panic that filled him from time to time. Fate had decreed that he should be bound to another, only it seemed that for Garrosh that other was a <em>coward</em>. Who else might feel so much dread so often? He looked back on his memories of all the times he had been gripped by this inescapable torment. How often he had thrown aside his furs in the middle of the night, convinced that danger lurked just outside, or dropped what he was doing to search for a threat he could feel as though it breathed just over his shoulder. If this mate that fate had chosen for him was a warrior, if they were an orc of any true worth, then they should not feel so much fear. It was pathetic.</p><p>At times the feeling would strike him when he was nearly too distracted to notice, like when he was engaged in battle, and his own blood pumped hard and fast in his veins. Other times it made no sense at all. Perhaps strangest of all was the day his heart seemed to lurch when he crossed blades with Varian Wrynn in Dalaran. At first he’d hardly even noticed, but when it began to fade as he and Thrall departed the Violet Citadel, he received the same infuriating look of pity that the old crone had fixed upon him all those many years ago.</p><p>That night he had tried to drink his weight twice over, stumbling out of the inn and to his furs before the first light of morning. By the time he awoke his strange uneasiness was long forgotten. Or so he wished to believe.</p><p>Little by little he began to see, as the elders had assured him he would. He was no fool. Thrall and Saurfang—even the old bull, Cairne Bloodhoof—would have liked to think he was but a naive young fool. A pup come into his fangs and eager to test them upon the flesh of his enemies, with no thought for anything but blood and war. But Garrosh watched, and he listened. He witnessed as others were slowly and inexorably drawn into the orbit of their destined mate. The signs were clear enough that even he, supposedly so reckless and naive, could not mistake them.</p><p>He was certain Varian Wrynn had come to the very same conclusion.</p><p>At first he’d been infuriated; a human—a <em>human!</em> And not just any human, but his greatest enemy! The very sound of Varian Wrynn’s voice made his blood burn in his veins and set his teeth to grind against each other, and the more he attempted to fight the slowly tightening grip of this fate, the harder it became to escape the man’s presence. To deny what he had promised himself so long ago he would never, ever accept. Yet for all his defiance they were thrown together time and again, made to meet and fight and <em>negotiate</em>, and all the while Garrosh knew—and worse still he knew that <em>Varian</em> knew—they were mates in all but name.</p><p>And so, for just one night, before their own pride and rage at the unfairness of it all tore them apart and took the rest of Azeroth with them, they each chose to give in, and let fate have them.</p><p>It was violent and glorious, everything and more that he had come to know of lust in his lifetime. If he had believed Varian Wrynn to be a coward he learned then that he was mistaken. Varian had taken all of him and fearlessly given everything of himself in return, and they’d marked one another with bruises and blood, teeth finding flesh where they could each only hope no one else might see the evidence of their burning hunger. Garrosh had tasted Varian, and been given unrestrained pleasure in return. He knew so much regret then that when it was over, when the harsh light of morning cast itself upon what they had done, he fled. Leaving without a word or a backwards glance. He was afraid. Terrified of looking into his mate’s eyes and allowing him to see the ache, the overwhelming <em>agony</em> that Garrosh felt in that moment.</p><p>Because they were the single greatest danger to one another, no matter what fate had decided for them. He felt that certainty in his chest, buried deep within his heart. And if he had learned anything since that first moment in Nagrand, when he <em>was</em> young and naive, it was that Varian would undoubtedly feel it too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to make suggestions! Additional ships and tropes are always welcome.</p><p>Many thanks to Eria and the others in the Lionfang discord for helping me compose most of the tropes and ships lists!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 2: Gilnean Gal Pals - Shared writing on skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop that, you’ll ruin your dress sleeves. What will your father say?”</p><p>Tess frowned and set the quill down on the table. “I only wanted her to see.”</p><p>“Who?” the instructor asked.</p><p>“My soulmate!” Tess answered excitedly. “Mother says that if I have one, she can see whatever I write on myself.”</p><p>The instructor scoffed and continued past the desk. Along the way he snatched up Tess’ quill and snapped it in half in his palm. “That isn’t the sort of talk a princess should engage in. As your father and mother have given me clear instructions regarding your education, we shall begin the day’s lesson here: soulmates are a <em>myth</em>. Nothing more than the fanciful creation of an overactive mind.” He turned around and looked down on where she sat, swinging her small legs below the chair. “And if they were real,” he continued, his voice taking on a much darker tone, “yours would not be a <em>she</em>.”</p><p>Her legs stopped moving. “Why not?”</p><p>“Because you are a princess, and you will marry a nobleman. Do you detect the emphasis? Noble<em>man</em>.”</p><p>He watched her for several seconds, and when she didn’t reply, or argue back, he smiled. It was the same sort of smile he bestowed upon her whenever she did anything right; a smile that never touched his eyes.</p><p>Sometimes Tess thought he hated her. She certainly hated him.</p><p>“Now, we will resume our lesson in courtesy. Tell me, where should the dining fork reside at a formal setting in the old Arathi style?”</p><p> </p><p><br/>
The world changed. Her people changed. Tess fought and bled for her family, and for the last of her home, now alive only in the hearts of those Gilneans fortunate enough to have survived. The Legion came to their world with every intention of seeing it burn in eternal fel flame, and Tess joined with others to help push them back.</p><p>“Stow the powder in the hold. No, <em>belowdecks!</em>” King Genn Greymane called out to the deckhands of the <em>Skyfire</em>. He turned back to his daughter and shook his head. “You would think these fools had never prepared a vessel for war,” he muttered.</p><p>“I’ll wager the Legion’s made some of them forget how to lace their own boots,” Tess remarked wryly. She was just as afraid as anyone else, but she held it in. She was a Greymane after all.</p><p>“We’re just about finished topside,” Lorna announced as she came up the short steps to the forecastle. She shot Tess a quick glance and a small smile. “Is there anything else you want me to check before we depart?”</p><p>“No, my dear, that should be sufficient. I’ll inform the captain that we’re ready to get underway,” Genn said. He paused to look at the two young women before him and shook his head. His frown, at least, was softer than it had been at times.</p><p>Once her father was gone, and they were alone on the forecastle, Tess dared to step closer to Lorna. “I’ll write to you,” she said, taking Lorna’s hand and running her thumb across her knuckles.</p><p>“A true wartime romance,” Lorna chuckled, “just like the stories.”</p><p>Tess smiled, but then her throat felt thick and dry, and she frowned to hide her fear. “Be safe. I know what he’s planning, and—”</p><p>“I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Anyone could say that, but there were no guarantees. Tess knew that better than most. Still, she found her smile again, even if it was a bit weaker than before. “I know.”</p><p>Her gryphon was waiting for her on the aft deck, high above the bridge. Tess herself had a very different destination than the <em>Skyfire</em>, which would soon fly for Stormheim. She would depart Stormwind in the evening, after saying her farewells to her mother. For now, there was only one person left to bid goodbye, and a safe journey to the war that awaited them.</p><p>“I’d like to not lose everyone I care about in one go,” she said to her father. He was bent over, coiling a rope that some deckhand had put away improperly.</p><p>“I’ve no intention of dying, Tess. Your mother would never stand for it.”</p><p>“Well, that accounts for you. But there are others, you know.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the ship’s railing, waiting for him to catch up and gather her meaning.</p><p>When he did, he dropped the rope and stood straight. To her surprise, he had a smirk on his face, and there was genuine amusement in his eyes. “You really don’t believe I’d risk your ire any more than your mother’s, do you?”</p><p>Tess snorted lightly. “No, I suppose not.” She left the railing and moved to accept her father’s open arms, embracing him quickly, before pulling back again to give him a stern look. “Keep her safe,” she warned. “Keep them all safe.”</p><p>Genn bowed his head slightly, and Tess stepped back. She took one last look at the forecastle, where she could just barely see a head of long, brown hair, loose tresses caught in the breeze off the sea.</p><p>The gryphon carried her back to the harbor, and she watched from there as the <em>Skyfire</em> turned northwest, toward the Broken Isles.</p><p>Her life was nothing like she had been assured it would be when she was a little girl, learning etiquette and being taught how to follow politely in her brother’s shadow. She had become the heir to a kingdom that no longer existed, fighting and bleeding not only for her people, but all of Azeroth. The fate of the world dangled from a thread, and she was one needle poised to sew it back together again. She wasn’t the princess she had been raised to become. That suited her just fine.</p><p>She looked down at her arm, where the worn leather revealed a faint bit of black beneath the buckle of her bracer. Pushing it down, she smiled at what she found there, written in flowing script. Lorna’s distinctive handwriting.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll write you, too.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 3: Liontrust - Dream sharing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I... got a little carried away with this one.</p><p>Since I'm actually a fan of the movie (it's fun, that's all I ask for) I decided to go with the movie-verse versions of these characters for this one. Accordingly, other characters mentioned will fall more in line with that canon than the games.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>This one is SUPER explicit, by the way.</b></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was fine until they actually <em>met</em>.</p><p>Lothar had mostly ignored the strange dreams, no stranger than usual for the fact that they weren’t his own. Given how indecipherable and often meaningless dreams were, that seemed like the best way to handle them. And he had more on his mind most days than who was dreaming about being chased by books. If his soulmate had some sort of fear of study, the worst Lothar had to deal with was waking up confused and slightly wary of the book on his bedside table.</p><p>But then they met. He got to know the young mage, and the dreams Khadgar unwittingly shared with him stopped being about books with teeth, failure, and the occasional faceless but conventionally attractive stranger.</p><p>They started to be about Lothar.</p><p>Dreams of fighting with him, nightmares of standing by helplessly as he died, and a shocking number of dreams about doing mundane tasks with him.</p><p>He was also beginning to discover that it was difficult to broach the subject of dreams with the mage when he was the subject. It made things strange and awkward, and strained their friendship.</p><p>Worse still, there was no avoiding it. No pretending they each didn’t know what the other had been dreaming. While Lothar’s dreams were, according to Khadgar, mostly about war and women and mistakes he could never undo, Khadgar’s seemed to slowly focus more and more on one specific subject: Lothar.</p><p>And it was becoming unbearable.</p><p>“Can’t you… I don’t know, read something before bed?” Lothar asked. They were in a seedy tavern near the city gate, tucked away in a dark corner. Since the opening of the Dark Portal Khadgar had begun to split his time between Karazhan and Stormwind, often spending weeks at a time in the tower, absorbed in his research. He seemed to have conquered his fear of study at last. The nightmares about rampaging books had lessened accordingly.</p><p>“I can’t control what I dream about. It doesn’t work that way.”</p><p>Lothar frowned. “I never dream about you.”</p><p>“You never dream about much of anything,” Khadgar countered. “What was it last night? Oh, yes, being chased by murlocs wielding hammers. Exactly what I would expect of the Regent Lord of Stormwind.” He rolled his eyes and flipped the page in his book.</p><p>“What are you reading?” Lothar asked. He was so accustomed to seeing the mage with some sort of arcane research in his hands that he had overlooked the dusty tome on the table between them.</p><p>Khadgar glanced at him, and then quickly shut the book. He slipped it back into the satchel hanging on the back of his seat. “Nothing.”</p><p>“You have never been good at lying, tell me what it is.”</p><p>“It’s nothing.”</p><p>Lothar held his arms out. If Khadgar expected him to give up, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.</p><p>But he did, and so he sighed and surrendered the book.</p><p>Lothar turned it around and squinted at the title. “You’re reading about soulmates?”</p><p>“I thought there might be something in there that would help us figure out how to… well, lessen the connection.”</p><p>“This is from Karazhan?”</p><p>Khadgar shook his head. “I found it in an inn.”</p><p>Lothar could only stare at him blankly, and then he slapped the book back down on the table and said, “You’re a fool, you know that? One of the most skilled mages of our time, and you stole a book from an <em>inn</em> to help you stop dreaming about your best friend.” He shook his head. “Perhaps at the next inn you’ll find me a book that will explain how to go back in time, and get a better soulmate.”</p><p>“Do you have any better ideas?” Khadgar asked, indignant.</p><p>He didn’t. “Well, does the book say anything that might help us?”</p><p>Khadgar’s face flushed crimson, and he reached for his ale to take a very long drink.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lothar muttered.</p><p>The tankard was nearly drained before Khadgar dropped it back down on the table and took a deep breath. “We could satisfy the bond.”</p><p>“We could what? What does that mean?” Lothar asked. He had a feeling he knew, but some part of him hoped he was wrong. And yet another part of him, buried somewhere very deep, hoped he wasn’t. He tried not to think about that.</p><p>“We both know soulmates aren’t always… romantic,” Khadgar said, gesturing back and forth between them. “Sometimes they’re platonic, occasionally even familial.”</p><p>“I know this. Skip to the part where we <em>satisfy</em> the bond between us.”</p><p>“I’m getting there. While familial bonds can be satisfied by regular contact—a hug, a kiss on the cheek, even just spending time in the company of one’s bonded family—a bond between those not connected by blood will sometimes grow more insistent until…”</p><p>Lothar narrowed his eyes. “Until what.”</p><p>“Until it can’t be ignored,” Khadgar said with a small shrug.</p><p>“You mean this is only going to get worse? Worse than you dreaming about me every night? And I’ll, what, begin dreaming about you, too?”</p><p>“You don’t have to make it sound like such an imposition.”</p><p>“Can’t I just—” Lothar made a gesture even he didn’t really understand. “You know?”</p><p>“Everything I’ve read here suggests that we’ll need to have sex.” He had barely finished his sentence before Lothar began shushing him. “What—it’s just <em>sex</em>.”</p><p>“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Lothar said wryly.</p><p>“Unless you have a lover I’m not aware of, no one would be hurt by this.”</p><p>He had a point. What’s more, Lothar wasn’t really opposed to the idea. In fact, despite his protests, he was beginning to see the appeal in the occasional soul-satisfying roll with the very attractive young mage he had come to respect and admire. He just didn’t want to <em>admit</em> that. “That’s what you think,” he said, hoping Khadgar might have a better counter-argument.</p><p>“Well,” Khadgar said, taking the book and shoving it back into his bag, “the dreams don’t bother <em>me</em>. So if you’re that upset by the thought of—”</p><p>“I’ll do it—I’ll—fine! I’ll do it! Sit down.” He pushed Khadgar back into his seat with one hand. “I never said I wouldn’t, alright? But not here.”</p><p>Khadgar looked around; the tavern was filled with patrons in varying states of drunkenness, from stumbling to blacked-out. No one was looking at them, or even really aware of their presence. They could rent one of the rooms and it was likely not a soul would care. But the boards reeked of old, cheap ale and piss, and he was certain the rooms were no better.</p><p>Khadgar shrugged. “Well, where did you have in mind?”</p><p> </p><p><br/>
“When you said somewhere else,” Khadgar hissed, “I didn’t think you meant <em>here</em>.”</p><p>Lothar waved off his concerns and kept walking. His chambers were just around the corner, in the east wing of the castle. It was late, and no one was about. No risk of running into anyone who might ask why he was bringing a mage back to his rooms at such an hour. Taria might understand, but he wasn’t interested in fending off the flood of questions that his nephew would undoubtedly heap upon them. Varian was a fine boy, but if he didn’t demand one magic trick after another from Khadgar, he would insist on spending the evening listening to wild tales and old battle stories.</p><p>“Where else would you prefer to do it?” Lothar asked. “The smelly tavern? Or perhaps out in the woods. We could go back to Karazhan, if neither is to your liking. You said that you were beginning to suspect it was haunted, but I imagine the ghosts might give us some privacy.”</p><p>“Alright, point taken.”</p><p>They reached his chambers and Lothar ushered him inside. There were candles already lit, and a small fire in the hearth.</p><p>Khadgar looked around the room and nodded. “Romantic,” he said.</p><p>Lothar only frowned at him. It really wasn’t the time for sarcasm.</p><p>He began removing his belt and bracers and most of the other pieces of clothing that couldn’t be easily pulled off with one hand, tossing them aside to gather again later. Khadgar set his bag down by the door and then turned and crossed his arms. “Rushing this won’t make it any easier,” he said.</p><p>Lothar frowned at him. “I’m not rushing.”</p><p>“So this is how you always begin your sexual encounters?”</p><p>“Fine,” Lothar sighed. “How would you prefer to proceed?”</p><p>“Well,” Khadgar began, his voice suddenly very thin. “You could… start by undressing me.”</p><p>Lothar nodded. He could do that—he <em>wanted</em> to do that, in fact. Steeling himself, he stepped closer and reached for the clasp of Khadgar’s travel cloak. The soft wool slid from his shoulders and fell to the floor, pooling like water at his feet.</p><p>Khadgar swallowed nervously and his throat bobbed, drawing Lothar’s eyes to the soft stretch of pale skin. He froze. “I… don’t know how this buttons,” he whispered, toying with Khadgar’s collar.</p><p>“You—oh, yes,” Khadgar stammered. “It pulls over, like this.” He removed the outer layer of his robes, and Lothar reached to help him with the rest. Piece by piece they slowly disrobed Khadgar together, until he was standing there, naked from head to toe, shivering.</p><p>Lothar cleared his throat and pulled his attention back to Khadgar’s face. “You’re cold?” he asked.</p><p>“It’s fine. I imagine I’ll be warm again in a few minutes.”</p><p>It was far easier for Lothar to remove his own clothing, or what was left of it. Khadgar made an attempt to help him, but in the end he seemed to satisfy himself with simply watching, occasionally trailing his fingertips over Lothar’s tanned and scarred skin. He plucked idly at the shirt laces, exposing the very top of Lothar’s chest. It was clear that he was enjoying himself, despite his insistence that it was only a matter of practicality. And when it came time to remove the last piece of clothing between them, Lothar knew that Khadgar would see just how much <em>he</em> was enjoying it as well.</p><p>He stepped out of the pile of cloth, leather, and mail and kicked it aside. Khadgar’s hands were on his waist, thumbs tracing the muscles of his abdomen. “It’s a little different than seeing you undress in a camp,” he said quietly.</p><p>“Now you see why I wanted to come back here.”</p><p>They moved to the bed, and Khadgar stretched out along the silken coverlet. “Nice,” he said, sliding his hands over the shimmering fabric.</p><p>Lothar smirked. “Most of the rooms are like this.” He knelt on the bed between Khadgar’s open knees, and Khadgar turned away to look up at the canopy.</p><p>“Are you nervous?”</p><p>A huff of quick laughter. “Extremely.”</p><p>Taking pity on him, Lothar reached up to cup his jaw and turn his face so that they were looking at one another again. “Don’t be,” he said. “I know what I’m doing.”</p><p>“You’ll need something to—to, um, prepare me…”</p><p>“Khadgar,” Lothar repeated just as tenderly, leaning in to press his lips to the mage’s ear, “I <em>know</em> what I’m doing.”</p><p>With that Khadgar seemed to melt into the bed, and he let his eyes slide shut. Lothar ran his hands from Khadgar’s chest down to his thigh, taking special care to delicately trace the soft dip below his belly, where the muscles weren’t quite so defined as his own. He nuzzled and licked his ear, smiling at the way Khadgar sighed softly with each touch. Heat poured off the smaller body beneath his, but he could still feel a faint tremble.</p><p>So, not cold.</p><p>He settled in close, aligning his body along the length of Khadgar’s and bringing them together far more intimately than they had been so far. Khadgar gasped, and Lothar seized the opportunity to kiss him. He dipped his tongue into Khadgar’s mouth and was rewarded with a helpless whine and fingers clutching at his sides, his arms, and finally tangling in his hair.</p><p>Khadgar bucked his hips, just enough to push his cock against Lothar’s hip. “Which of us is rushing now?” Lothar said playfully, swooping down to steal a quick kiss.</p><p>“I find I’m… far less concerned with taking my time at this point,” Khadgar admitted breathlessly. He reached down with his other hand to wrap his fingers around Lothar’s erection, pinned between them and hot against Khadgar’s skin. “Oh, you’re—wow.”</p><p>Lothar hummed in agreement and rolled them over, lifting Khadgar so that the mage was sitting astride his hips. “There’s something in the drawer, there,” he said, nodding to the bedside table above him. “I want you to make yourself ready for me.”</p><p>Despite the lust burning between them and the clear evidence they they were both quite happy with what was happening, Khadgar frowned sourly. “I thought you said you knew what you were doing?”</p><p>Lothar reached up and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. He bit his lip lightly, not enough to break the skin, but enough to be felt. Khadgar whimpered. “I do know,” Lothar said. “But I want to <em>watch you</em>.”</p><p>Khadgar’s eyes widened a fraction, and then he hurried to obey.</p><p>The step between close friends and lovers had been so short that Lothar marveled at how he’d missed it. How they had gone from nervously standing before one another to passionately tangled in the sheets, Khadgar kneeling above him, stroking himself with one hand and opening his body for Lothar with the other. The sight made him hungry, made him want in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time. He slid a hand around Khadgar’s waist and over the curve of his ass to feel where the mage’s fingers slipped in and out of his own body. Khadgar moaned, and Lothar had to grip his cock and clench his teeth against the ache that echoed in him.</p><p>“Tell me when you’re ready for me,” he said. Khadgar could only nod. His mouth was slack, eyes closed but fluttering faintly as he pleasured himself on his own fingers. Lothar couldn’t have conceived of how beautiful he would look, wanton and needy, ready to take him.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity Khadgar finally opened his eyes and nodded. “I think I’m ready,” he whispered.</p><p>“Do you want it like this?” Lothar asked. “You can ride me.”</p><p>But Khadgar shook his head. “Will you—” He stopped and swallowed. “From behind. Please.”</p><p>The timid request sent a hot pang of arousal straight through Lothar’s center. He watched as Khadgar crawled off him and turned around, facing the end of the bed as he sat back on his heels.</p><p>“Like this.”</p><p>Lothar’s mouth went dry. There was a mirror across the room, turned just enough so that it showed Khadgar’s reflection. Lothar could see the flush that stained his pale skin from the tips of his ears down to his chest, the way his dark eyes watched him back through the glass.</p><p>He pushed himself onto his knees and moved into place behind Khadgar. “I’ll go slow,” he promised.</p><p>“You don’t have to.”</p><p>With a bit of oil to slick himself up, Lothar shifted on his knees until he could press his chest to Khadgar’s back. He reached around with one hand to tilt Khadgar back and claim his mouth one more time. The kiss was slow and lazy, and Lothar found himself mesmerized by the taste of the mage’s lips, the soft insistence of his tongue. With his other hand he took hold of himself and slid the head of his cock between Khadgar’s thighs, drawing it up the cleft and pushing gently against his hole. He teased him that way, over and over, until Khadgar was panting in his arms, close to begging.</p><p>When he finally pushed inside it was to the sound of Khadgar’s satisfied groan, hitched at the end as he drew a shaky breath. Lothar held him steady until he was in as far as he could go, until his balls were tight against Khadgar’s ass, and then he pulled out just as slowly. Both hands held the mage’s hips, controlling their pace. Khadgar tried to push back, but Lothar kept him in place and forced him to go slow until he was certain more would not harm him.</p><p>“Please,” Khadgar whined. He reached up behind his head and grasped a fistful of Lothar’s hair with one hand. His other pawed uselessly at Lothar’s fingers where they dug into his skin. “I need more. Please, I—I can’t—”</p><p>Lothar obliged him, going faster, pushing just a little bit harder until Khadgar could only cling to him and moan. He was hot and tight, but more than that he was <em>exquisite</em>. Lothar watched in the mirror over Khadgar’s shoulder, gazing at the arch of his body, the muscles taut and quivering. His cock was flushed dark and stiff, slapping against his stomach each time Lothar drove into him from behind. “Open your eyes and look,” Lothar said.</p><p>Khadgar took a moment, but when he finally looked he let out a breathless, shuddering groan that Lothar could feel through his chest. “Faster,” he pleaded. His eyes were locked on the image in the mirror.</p><p>It was impossible for Lothar to refuse him. Khadgar was his soulmate, after all. “Whatever you want,” he breathed in Khadgar’s ear.</p><p>“Come on me.”</p><p>Lothar nearly broke his rhythm. “<em>On</em> you?” he asked.</p><p>Khadgar nodded. He sucked in a breath as though steeling himself and said, “I want to feel it. <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>That was… It was more than Lothar could handle. He cursed and buried his face in the hair at the nape of Khadgar’s neck, so close to coming that he wasn’t certain he <em>could</em> stop in time. When Khadgar let go and fell forward on his hands so that he could push back Lothar knew he couldn’t wait another second. He pulled out and stroked himself hard and fast, spilling down the cleft of Khadgar’s ass, one pulse after another, until it dripped from him and stained the bed between them.</p><p>Khadgar shuddered and hung his head between his shoulders. “Put it back in me.”</p><p>Lothar’s cock throbbed, the ache in his balls almost painful. He pushed back into Khadgar, into the tight, welcoming heat, and stayed there, barely moving. Simply holding the mage until it became almost too much to bear. When his cock had softened enough he slipped out, and Khadgar made a satisfied sound deep in his throat. Lothar could see his arm moving fast, hand between his legs as he brought himself off.</p><p>“Would you like some help with that?” he asked lazily. Only instead of reaching around to offer a hand, he slipped two fingers back into Khadgar, finding him still very open and slick. He curled his fingers, searching for the spot that would make the mage scream. When Khadgar’s whole body jerked and tensed he knew he’d found it. Lothar massaged him slowly, drawing out a wail that tore from Khadgar’s throat as he came hard, clenching down around the fingers inside him.</p><p>And Lothar watched it all in the mirror, eyes locked on the incredible sight.</p><p>Khadgar sagged slightly, and Lothar wrapped his arms around him to pull him back to the center of the bed. “Was that good?” he asked weakly.</p><p>Lothar couldn’t help a small snort. “You would ask that,” he muttered. “Of course it was good. It was…”</p><p>“Amazing.”</p><p>He nodded. “Amazing.”</p><p> </p><p><br/>
After that the dreams about battles, death, and everyday life largely stopped. It seemed the dubiously sourced book on soulmates had been right… if not <em>quite</em> the way they expected.</p><p>Khadgar’s dreams, while no longer focused almost entirely on his life as Lothar’s friend, soon began to feature the knight in different ways. Much more intimate ways.</p><p>This time Lothar decided not to worry about it so much.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day 4: Paladin Pals - Feeling your soulmate's pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for being late, I had to sacrifice the shorts to get a chapter of my arranged marriage AU finished. Honestly I can't say that if faced with the same choice again I won't let these slack. There's only so much time each day that I can spend writing. I'll definitely get them done, but here or there I may need to take a little extra time.</p><p>The good news is I have two to post today.</p><p>This trope seemed a bit <i>too</i> perfect for angst, and frankly I'd like something fun. So enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop that.” Tarenar twitched again. “I said stop it!”</p><p>“You two must have something better to do than torment each other all day,” Fiona sighed. “Fetch some firewood for the camp tonight, would you?”</p><p>“We—<em>ow!</em>—Gidwin!”</p><p>Gidwin giggled and finally stopped pinching himself. “Firewood, right,” he said, pushing himself onto his feet.</p><p>“We already gathered firewood,” Tarenar pointed out. He was rubbing his own arm where Gidwin had managed to cause several small red welts to appear.</p><p>“You used the last of it trying to build a bridge to cross that stream—despite my insistence.” Fiona gestured toward the woods. “Go on, off with you both.”</p><p>Gidwin was already up and moving, and Tarenar followed with a sigh.</p><p>They were a short distance into the woods when Gidwin yelped. “What was that?!” he cried, slapping wildly at the back of his neck.</p><p>“Must have been some sort of bug,” Tarenar said innocently.</p><p>“Wh—it was you!”</p><p>“Stop pinching your arm just to torment me and I won’t trick you.”</p><p>Gidwin grumbled, but he seemed to accept what was more or less a truce. They gathered what wood they could find, and Tarenar piled it all up in Gidwin’s arms until the dwarf could barely see where he was going.</p><p>“I thought you said I was only carrying these for a few minutes!” he complained.</p><p>“Only a few <em>more</em> minutes. There’s a distinct difference.”</p><p>Tarenar grinned, and Gidwin muttered something rude under his breath.</p><p>They were on their way back to camp when the dwarf said, “You started it, you know.”</p><p>That prompted Tarenar to raise one long eyebrow at him—not that he could see it. “Started what?”</p><p>“This!” Gidwin exclaimed. “These little rivalries. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”</p><p>They had been traveling with Fiona’s caravan for a while. He was hard pressed to remember just when their little back-and-forth had begun, let alone who started it. “I definitely don’t.”</p><p>“It was you! You, with your jokes about my height!”</p><p>“Are you <em>still</em> harping on that?” Tarenar sighed. “I let you ride in front… Well, at least twice.”</p><p>“I’m the perfect height for what needs doing,” Gidwin said firmly. “Don’t need so much as an inch more.”</p><p>Tarenar snickered. “What needs doing, eh?”</p><p>“Oh, shut it. You dirty elf.”</p><p> </p><p><br/>
That night Fiona retired to the wagon and left Gidwin and Tarenar to lie beneath the stars, bickering over who could count more. Neither one of them could actually keep track of which stars they had already counted, and so it became more or less a competition to see who could count highest before getting bored.</p><p>“Not an inch more?” Tarenar asked once they had both given up. “Really?”</p><p>“What would I need with a bit more height?”</p><p>Tarenar shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Reaching things… Reaching anything, really.”</p><p>“Have I ever had a problem before?”</p><p>“<em>Hmm</em>,” Tarenar hummed, settling his arms behind his head. He wagged his feet back and forth, simply enjoying the brief silence and the clear night sky.</p><p>“‘Sides,” Gidwin continued after a moment, his voice pitched a bit lower, “I’ve always got someone I can ask if I need a little help reaching, don’t I?”</p><p>Tarenar bit down on his smile. “I <em>suppose</em>,” he said slowly, drawing out the word. He was about to make another smart remark just because he could, but a sudden sharp sting sent him bolt upright with a yelp. He reached back and rubbed his poor bottom, looking around for the source of the pinch.</p><p>It was the telltale giggle that gave it away. He turned sharply to Gidwin. “And <em>I’m</em> dirty,” he said.</p><p>“I wanted to get your attention.”</p><p>“Well, you certainly have it.”</p><p>Gidwin was lying on the other side of the fire, but when he craned his neck to look up Tarenar could see his smirk. “Thought I’d ask ask for a little help reaching,” he said, grinning.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 5: Lionfang - Sensing how dangerous/powerful your soulmate is</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I followed the canon story a bit more closely with this one. You may or may not be happy about that.</p>
<p>
  <b>This short story is explicit.</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most people never found their soulmates. Most never even bothered to search. It was an ancient magic, woven deep within the natural laws of each world, unbothered by the ever-changing balance of power between the opposing forces of the universe. It was a primal power in its own right, as vital as any element, even if no being, mortal or otherwise, could ever hope to control it. And that, as the elders taught, was why it manifested itself the way it did. In power.</p>
<p>Even children knew that if the right combination of stars and luck aligned, which so rarely ever happened, two people could find themselves face to face with their other half. The one who was destined to in some way change the entire course of their life.</p>
<p>But soulmate encounters were not always joyous occasions. In fact, in the history of more than one world the meeting of two people bound together by that primal power had ended disastrously. It could change the course of battles, topple empires, and even rend the very world around them. Every variable that determined the course of a person’s life would ultimately come to bear in the unlikely eventuality that they ever met their soulmate. They could be bitter enemies or best friends. It made no difference. Meeting a soulmate was an accounting not only of one’s past, but one’s potential.</p>
<p>Therefore, most people did not find their soulmates. And most, if they were wise, did not seek them out.</p>
<p>Varok had never given the matter much thought. He had found a mate, fathered a son, lost them both and gone on to commit acts of grave dishonor and great glory in the name of causes that came and went with the changing world around him.</p>
<p>It was strange, then, that he should find himself sitting in a temple in Pandaria, eyes on the witness stand in the front of the room, staring at his soulmate.</p>
<p>No one could argue that destiny hadn’t played a rather macabre joke; Anduin Wrynn was the son of the king of Stormwind, a human, and looked as though he could barely keep himself upright. He was not what anyone—even another human—might call strong.</p>
<p>At least, not outwardly.</p>
<p>Varok nearly gasped at the sudden awareness of the danger that loomed around the boy. Because that was what it was to meet one’s soulmate; a sense of the danger they posed, not only to others but to themselves, to the world around them. Something only their other half could ever truly feel. Anduin Wrynn’s was incredible. He was all but wreathed in a cloak of terrible possibility.</p>
<p>That night, after the trial concluded for the day, Varok spoke privately with Go’el.</p>
<p>“Surely it’s a mistake,” he said. He waited for Go’el to agree. When he didn’t, Varok continued, insisting, “You have seen him, have you not?”</p>
<p>“I have. But you must remember, my friend, that appearances can be deceiving.”</p>
<p>“That is not deception, that is a blatant lie.” It was impossible to think that Wrynn’s boy could be so dangerous. <em>Varian</em> was dangerous. His son was just… frail. That he had survived Garrosh’s attempt to slay him was a matter of luck and timely healing, and no one, not even the boy himself, claimed otherwise.</p>
<p>“Does it bother you?” Go’el asked.</p>
<p>Varok snorted. “No. This is simply another turn on the path I must walk. Now there is another that charts its own parallel to mine.” Anduin Wrynn would someday come to influence the very course his life would take; that much was old knowledge, indisputable and useless to fight. They might change the world, or they might find themselves facing one another on the field of battle, each prepared to strike a killing blow—as unlikely as that was. He wasn’t certain the boy could even <em>lift</em> a sword. It was ludicrous to believe he might survive long enough to face an enemy such as Varok.</p>
<p>“Then put it from your mind. As yet there is no reason to believe it will be of any concern,” Go’el said sagely. It was little more than a platitude, of course; meeting one’s soulmate was always cause for concern. He slapped a hand down on Varok’s shoulder. “Besides, you may yet find that you are fated to become allies, not enemies.”</p>
<p>“My friend, if I were to lay my hand on that boy’s shoulder in companionship, as you have done now, it would break him in two.”</p>
<p>Go’el laughed, shaking his head as he did, and Varok could not hide his own smile. The entire matter was absurd. Perhaps Anduin Wrynn’s soul spoke of incredible power, but his scrawny limbs and weak demeanor said otherwise. He was a priest, or so rumor told. What sort of danger could one little priest possibly pose?</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/><br/>They had removed the arrow from his shoulder, as well as the other from his chest. Only the one remained now, but it was embedded in his pauldron, and posed no risk to him. It could wait.</p>
<p>He could not be sure if it was fate or his own foolish will that had driven him to spare Anduin Wrynn. He knew the risk he took by purposely striking a nonfatal blow so close to the enemy. Especially with his connection to the young king weighing so heavily on his mind, still so strange to him when he looked past the sense of danger to truly see the small human. He had once laughed at the thought of Varian’s son as his soulmate, questioning how the boy could ever pose a threat to anyone, let alone the high overlord of the Horde.</p>
<p>There was a commotion among the soldiers around them. Varok was standing beside the warchief, prepared to explain why he had failed to kill the Alliance king when he had the chance. They both turned back to the battlefield, and were instantly struck with the advancing wall of a shockwave so powerful that it nearly knocked Varok to the ground.</p>
<p>When he looked again he saw what it was that had struck him speechless all those years ago, in Pandaria. He had seen priests wield the light, and seen all manner of magics in his time, but he had seen little that struck him with so much awe and so much dread all at once. The boy—the <em>king—</em>was standing at the center of a massive dome of golden light, and all around him Alliance soldiers were picking themselves up, shaking off wounds Varok himself had seen delivered with every intent to kill.</p>
<p>Suddenly all the elders’ warnings about the devastating power of soulmates made sense. Anduin Wrynn had within him the potential to cause untold change in the world, for good or ill, and he was bound to Varok. Certainly Anduin himself was already aware that they were soulmates, and what grave consequences that might carry. He recalled the human’s surprise after Varok had knocked him to the earth, and the look on his face in the breathless seconds before Genn Greymane charged in to save him. But there was no need for the old wolf’s intervention; Varok couldn’t have raised his weapon against the young king a second time. Not even to pretend. He hadn’t understood it himself at the time, but now he saw it clearly, illuminated for all to see.</p>
<p>He had once been skeptical of Anduin Wrynn’s potential as a threat to him. Now, watching him wield the Light so radiantly, so powerfully, he knew himself to be a fool. He had not simply underestimated the human prince, but mistaken him entirely.</p>
<p>The bond and the fate they shared could and would topple an empire, but it would not be one that fell down around Varok, crushing him beneath the rubble. It would be <em>hers</em>. He would watch her rule topple with his soulmate at his side, because <em>they could do it</em>. They could put a stop to all of it before Sylvanas’ ambitions drove the world itself to ruin.</p>
<p>He only hoped that Anduin felt the same way.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/><br/>Varok turned and spun Anduin into the wall of the broken tower. His back hit the stone and he let out a small yelp. But it quickly folded into a growl as Anduin lunged, throwing his arms around Varok’s neck and daring the orc to catch him. Had anyone else been witness to the scene unfolding in the ruins above, they might have thought the two were locked in battle. Nothing could be further from the truth.</p>
<p>Anduin wound his fingers around the leather straps of Varok’s armor, panting into his mouth as he tugged at them, trying to pull them from his shoulders. Varok chuckled and flicked his tongue out to tangle obscenely with Anduin’s before whirling him around yet again, this time to push him up against the tower’s open window. Anduin braced his hands on the stones and pushed back with a groan as Varok ground against him from behind, letting him feel his desire.</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose you could…” Anduin breathed out, his voice hoarse with lust.</p>
<p>If he went to his grave with regrets—and spirits help him, he would—Varok knew that having to refuse the beautiful young king would be one of them. “I have nothing to make it easier for you.”</p>
<p>Anduin let his head fall between his shoulders and shook his head. “I don’t care, I want to feel you.”</p>
<p>His plea made Varok ache. He pushed harder, hearing the air escape Anduin’s chest in a rush as he was pressed harder against the stone. There were others gathered outside, far below the tower. In the dark and rain it was unlikely they could see anything more than shapes, mere hints of movement. The thought of it excited him in a way he had never anticipated. Or perhaps it was only the opportunity to touch his soulmate, to reach down between his legs and feel his answering excitement. To court that danger. He rubbed Anduin until they were both gasping, careless of the risks.</p>
<p>“Please,” Anduin hissed.</p>
<p>“Remove your belt.”</p>
<p>Anduin hesitated, perhaps uncertain he had heard Varok correctly. Then his fingers flew to his belt as he scrambled to undo the buckle and pull the worn leather from the loops. It fell aside with a clatter against the stone floor, and Anduin braced himself again with one hand as he quickly tore at the laces of his pants with the other. “Do it,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Varok’s heart pounded, his mouth was dry. He would have given anything to sink into the king’s hot and eager body, to feel him shudder with each thrust. But he would only hurt him if he tried now, without any way to prepare him. Anduin was too lust-addled to care, but Varok’s head felt clearer than it had in years, and he would not willingly bring harm to the one fate had chosen for him.</p>
<p>He reached for Anduin’s pants and pushed them down, baring him to the muted moonlight. That same sense of potential hummed between them, crackling like winter static beneath his fingers as he slowly ran his hands from Anduin’s thighs up to his waist, then around to his back. Anduin shivered, and Varok pushed against him. Only the single layer of leather stood between them now. The urge to tear it away was almost too strong to ignore.</p>
<p>“What if they hear,” Varok muttered in Anduin’s ear. “If they realize what it is I’m doing to you up in this tower.”</p>
<p>Anduin whined, and with his head half-turned Varok could see him bite down on his pink lip. When he breathed out he said, “I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“You don’t care, or is it that you <em>want</em> them to know?”</p>
<p>The sound Anduin made nearly gave them away; Varok clapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. “It seems I have my answer.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care if all of Azeroth hears. I want you.” Anduin tried to reach back and tug at Varok’s leather pants with one hand. “I’m yours, we both know I am. We’ve known it for years.”</p>
<p>Varok chuckled. Fated or damned, he was truly fond of this one small human. “For years I thought you would lead me to my death.”</p>
<p>“I’m happy to prove you wrong,” Anduin said, his nimble fingers still seeking the leather ties. Varok offered him mercy, shifting just enough to let him finally reach them.</p>
<p>When there was nothing more between them, only skin on skin, Varok pushed the young king down until he was bent over the stone window and held him there with his hand. “Spread your legs,” he said. Anduin obeyed, and Varok eagerly slipped his cock, full and throbbing, between his thighs. He moved against him, delighting in Anduin’s gasp of pleasure as it pushed at his balls, and then back up again until he could tease the young king’s hole. He would have liked nothing more than to fill him as he wanted. Denying himself and Anduin was like torture. Fortunately for them both, there were other ways he could give and take pleasure. </p>
<p>Pressed flush against Anduin’s back, he said, “Close your legs now.”</p>
<p>Anduin did as he’d been told, and clamped his thighs around Varok’s erection. His skin was soft and warm, and every time Varok thrust forward he felt Anduin shudder as the head of his cock teased him and the thick shaft dragged against his sensitive skin.</p>
<p>“I could watch you come like this,” Anduin whispered, awestruck.</p>
<p>“You will.”</p>
<p>Anduin reached down to stroke himself, head hanging so that he could watch Varok’s cock as it moved between his thighs, disappearing and reappearing over and over. Varok could feel his muscles quivering, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He placed his hands on either side of Anduin to hold the window’s edge. The extra bit of leverage allowed him to move faster, pleasuring himself with Anduin’s body and watching the way it responded to him so keenly, so eagerly. He brought one hand back to slip a finger down Anduin’s cleft and tease his entrance, massaging light circles around it as Anduin pressed a hand over his own mouth to keep from crying out.</p>
<p>Varok felt it when he came. It was written on every inch of his body that he could see, every part of him that he could feel. Anduin painted the wall with streaks of white, dripping onto Varok’s cock and making the slide slick. He seemed to melt against the stone, and Varok followed, one arm around his chest to hold him steady.</p>
<p>Anduin moved his hand so that his fingers could brush against the head of Varok's cock with each thrust. “Come for me,” he said, neither begging nor demanding. Simply asking for what was his.</p>
<p>Varok clenched his teeth and tried to swallow back his growl as he came hard into Anduin’s soft fingers, erupting between them, adding to the mess the young king had made of the wall. The scent of their mingled spend lingered in the humidity, dizzyingly thick and exhilarating to his senses. Anduin was all around him, and it made his knees weak. It made him feel whole.</p>
<p>After a moment he set his brow to the back of Anduin’s head and huffed out a sigh that blew his pretty golden hair in every direction. Anduin laughed and pushed back against him. “I need to get dressed before Shaw starts wondering where I am,” he said.</p>
<p>“I thought you wished for all of Azeroth to know,” Varok teased.</p>
<p>Anduin brushed a lock of hair from his face and smiled. “Yes, well, we can begin with someone else, I think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/><br/>Anduin looked up at him sadly.</p>
<p><em>We knew where it could lead,</em> he’d told the young king—his soulmate. He had known since the first moment he laid eyes on him, and likely Anduin did, too. Whether friend or foe, Anduin Wrynn was destined to change the very course of his life, and he Anduin's. Though he never could have guessed how drastically, or how magnificently. Anduin had given Varok something he lost long ago. Something he never thought he would have again. For that he was grateful, and humbled.</p>
<p>He bid Anduin to remain by his side a little longer. As he had done since the first moment they both realized the gravity of their shared fate, Anduin obliged him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I like to think fate still has plans for them in the Shadowlands in this story's universe. If I continued it, they would be reunited and somehow Anduin would bring Varok back to life, so I insist it's not actually an unhappy ending because I don't like those. It is law.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day 6: Khadgar/Bolvar - Healing when close to your soulmate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't even know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Just what did you think you would accomplish coming here?”</p><p>“Well, general wisdom—”</p><p>“General wisdom,” Bolvar repeated skeptically. “Go on.”</p><p>“Yes, well,” Khadgar said, clearing his throat. “As I said, general wisdom is that two people such as us—”</p><p>“Soulmates.”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Soulmates. It’s a rather silly word for something so mechanical, isn’t it? Anyhow, people such as us should, in theory, be able to provide certain benefits to one another.”</p><p>Bolvar only stared at him. Khadgar shifted from one foot to the other while he waited. “What sort of benefits?” he asked at last.</p><p>“That’s the fascinating part. It seems such rarefied individuals as ourselves are able to actually provide healing to one another through close contact. Quite convenient, really.”</p><p>Behind the helm Bolvar’s frosty blue eyes narrowed. “You wish to touch me.”</p><p>“Well, no, not exactly. However, I suppose we’ll have to at some point. It’s not that I <em>wish</em> to touch you—ah, that is, not that I <em>don’t</em> wish to touch you, either. I don’t mean to offend. I—I’m not here to touch you. Oh, Light, this isn’t going at all the way I’d planned.”</p><p>If it was possible for a man whose body was more or less one giant burn to look perplexed and slightly worried, Bolvar did.</p><p>“I only wish to examine the effects of prolonged contact between two beings who are soulbound to one another. You would be a near-perfect candidate for such a study, given your… er… condition. Any changes would be quite visible.”</p><p>Bolvar continued to stare at him (icily).</p><p>“We don’t have to be intimate.”</p><p>The silence stretched on.</p><p>“Unless you would like to…? No, you’re right, that’s not a good idea. We could simply hug.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Day 7: Thasstira - Soulmates share an afterlife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't really set this during any specific part of the Northrend campaign.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Koltira ducked, letting the shambling Scourge monstrosity swing its rotting arm in an arc over his head. He followed it with a lunge, bearing the creature to the ground before raising his blade and plunging it deep into the spot where a heart had once beat. Black ichor splattered across his armor and stained the snow around them.</p><p>At his back, Thassarian appeared to be engaged in a different sort of battle; six-on-one, he was swinging his own sword back and forth, trying to keep a knot of advancing ghouls at bay.</p><p>“Having some trouble with our old friends?” Koltira asked.</p><p>“Making certain they don’t take you from behind,” Thassarian answered. There was a hint of pique in the hollow reverberation of his voice. Over the years Koltira had come to know the sound well enough to tell when he was a bit put out by something.</p><p>Rather than digging at what was clearly a sore spot, he only called back, “Your assistance is timely as always,” before charging off to take down an abomination before it could swing its great meat hook. He heard Thassarian scoff behind him. At least he wasn’t angry anymore.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Later, when the battle had been won, and the remnants of its bloody progress had been cleared from the gore-stained snow, Koltira took a few moments for himself beneath the withered corpse of a tree. He had not needed rest for many years, but on occasion he liked to pretend as though he did. It was a way to gather his thoughts. A small indulgence he rewarded to himself for surviving another day in a world that would much rather he didn’t.</p><p>He heard footsteps approaching, heard the shake of mail and the light clank of armored plates, and opened one vivid blue eye. “Come to join me?” he asked quietly.</p><p>“Looking for you,” Thassarian said. “Mograine would like to know how the Scourge managed to break the blockade. The eastern quadrant was your responsibility.”</p><p>“I think you mean <em>Highlord</em> Mograine.”</p><p>“Koltira.”</p><p>Koltira frowned. “The Scourge broke the blockade because our dear former master has the numbers to commit to simply overwhelming our defenses. An abatis will only impale so many Scourge before it becomes the foundation for a ramp.”</p><p>“I know that,” Thassarian said.</p><p>“Then why didn’t you tell him that yourself?”</p><p>Thassarian sighed. It was a strange sound for a death knight. More often they expressed their frustration by dismembering whatever it was that had vexed them in the first place. Much simpler that way. “The highlord has expressed that wishes to hear the explanation from you directly.”</p><p>Koltira pressed his lips together to suppress a wry chuckle. “That’s quite a lot of words to say he demands to know why I failed at this one simple task.”</p><p>“I thought you might appreciate the extra effort.”</p><p>It was not often that Koltira smiled—really <em>smiled</em>, rather than grinning viciously over the shattered corpses of his enemies. He looked up at Thassarian, taking in the smears of blood and ichor that stained his armor just as it did Koltira’s; the grim set to his mouth dug lines deep into his face. He was quite handsome, for a dead man.</p><p>Pretending as though he was only lounging beneath the shade of a flowering tree in Quel’Thalas, Koltira reached one hand out for Thassarian to take. He waited expectantly.</p><p>Thassarian sighed again through his nose and reached back. He took Koltira’s hand and pulled him to his feet, drawing him close for only a few seconds. “This sort of behavior is not encouraged in the Ebon Blade,” he said as he let go again. He meant any sort of camaraderie, of course. Friendship. Physical affection. Intimacy.</p><p>“I hardly imagine most behavior would be,” Koltira muttered. He brushed past Thassarian, only to be stopped by a hand on his upper arm.</p><p>Thassarian held him there for just a moment, not speaking, not even bothering to meet his eyes. Then he abruptly drew Koltira back, causing him to stumble awkwardly in the snow. He pulled, and Koltira fell toward him.</p><p>A rare gasp escaped him as Thassarian’s cool lips met his own. In the blistering wind of Icecrown he could almost convince himself it was simply the cold. That they could go inside somewhere, warm and sheltered, and step away from the cruel reality of a living death. His hands came up to wrap around Thassarian’s neck, and he opened his mouth to the tongue that teased the seam of his lips.</p><p>He felt a palm slide down over his ass and made a sound wholly unbecoming of a death knight. Thassarian’s own smile, rarer even than any grin or gasp from Koltira, curved against his open mouth. Koltira pulled back and buried his face in the side of Thassarian’s neck.</p><p>“You know, I was always taught that soulmates would share an afterlife,” he said quietly. He knew his partner—his <em>lover—</em>would still hear him over the howl of the wind around them.</p><p>“I was taught the same.”</p><p>“I didn’t think it would be so bloody,” Koltira said.</p><p>Thassarian grunted his agreement. “Or so structured.”</p><p>“But you are here, just as I was told you would be.”</p><p>“I am,” Thassarian said. His arms tightened around Koltira’s waist. “And I will be there in the next one as well.”</p>
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